Surface
by Chikorita-Trainer1
Summary: Frustrated with the way that Damian doesn't show his true feelings much, Dick and Tim devise a plan to get him to open up. It's just a highly controversial and morally-sketchy plan.
1. Chapter 01

**Surface Chapter** **01**

Chikorita-Trainer1

T

Disclaimer: I don't own DC comics or anything else I might make references to.

Author's note: It took me a LONG time to think up the title. I was going to go with something involving the word "wasted" or "hammered," but I didn't want to make it too funny. This story will have some humor in it, but I mostly want it to be serious. The title refers to the fact that when one gets drunk, their true personality "comes to the surface." Please enjoy.

* * *

Dick Grayson and his brother, Tim Drake, were out one night, out-of-costume, at a diner. They had long since finished their meals, and were now just talking and complaining about stuff. Namely, their little brother, Damian.

"Why does he have to be so difficult?" groaned Tim, left elbow on the table and running a hand through his hair.

"Because he was raised by terrorists and ninjas as opposed to a loving mom and dad," Dick suggested, taking a sip of his beer.

"He's so insecure, it's really sad," said Tim, using his right hand to push a few pretzels around the table with his finger.

"I know," said Dick. "I'm sure he has feelings, somewhere in there, he just thinks that if he ever shows them, someone will use it to their advantage."

"I sure as hell will," scoffed Tim. "Just kidding."

"Man, he's been beaten to within an inch of his life, and he still just turns up his nose at everyone," sighed Dick. "Did you know, once, I had to rescue him from being thrown off a building…and you know that little 'tt' noise he makes?"

"Yeah."

"He did that _while_ he was falling. It's like, he didn't even give a shit that he was about to die, and when I rescued him, did he thank me? Nope! All he did was criticize my actions," said Dick.

"Yeah, that's Damian for you," said Tim.

_"Such a little bitch…"_ muttered Dick, finishing the last of his beer. "You wanna go?"

"Sure," said Tim. The two brothers left a small tip on the table of the diner at which they were hanging out, and walked out.

"I wish there was something we could do to get him to loosen up," said Dick as they walked down the street, back to Tim's new apartment.

"Hell, we've watched movies with him, we treat him like a part of this family, I don't know what else we could do," said Tim.

"Could torture him," said Dick with a chuckle.

"Dude, if I thought that would make him into a more tolerable person, don't you think I would have done it already?" laughed Tim.

"Ha ha ha!" laughed Dick. "Are we horrible people for talking about this?"

"Yes. Yes, we are," laughed Tim. "We go out to grab a late snack and we spend it talking about different ways we can savagely torture our little brother until he cries." The two brothers laughed and joked all the way back.

When they arrived at Tim's apartment, Dick gazed up at the high ceilings and modern décor.

"Whoa. Did a hipster come in and barf all over the place, or do you actually like this style?" he asked.

"Eh, it's not really _me_, but I kinda wanted to go with a different look. Less gothic. Less…y'know…Batman," Tim explained.

"I gotcha, I gotcha," said Dick, still looking around. "That's a pretty sorry-looking fish tank."

"Well, it's just for show. That's where the button is that opens the door to the bunker," said Tim.

"Ah, of course," said Dick, sitting down on the couch. "These are some ugly-ass sofas, though."

"Alright, could you please stop insulting my apartment?" grumbled Tim, sitting down on the other couch.

"Sorry," Dick said with a small exhale of a laugh. "It's just not what I would go with."

"Yeah, I know. Maybe if I eliminate laundry hampers and shelves from my life it would look more like home to you," Tim teased.

"Snarky much?" said Dick. "Man, you could give D a run for his money."

"Oh yeah, we were talking about him, weren't we?" said Tim. Dick nodded. "Yeah, I wish there were some non-violent way to get him to open up. Be more honest with his feelings and not be such an…"

"Arrogant douche?"

"Yes," said Tim. Dick leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment.

Silence.

Silence.

And then, out of nowhere…

"We could get him drunk," suggested Dick.

* * *

To be continued

Please review, thanks!


	2. Chapter 02

**Surface Chapter 02**

Chikorita-Trainer1

T

Disclaimer: I don't own DC comics or anything else I might make references to.

* * *

"_We could get him drunk."_

Tim just looked quizzically at Dick, who looked back at him with his eyebrows raised as high as they could go, wrinkling his forehead.

"Dick," he said. "No. That's mean."

"It could work. Think about it; when people get drunk, they say what they're really thinking. Damian keeps his true feelings locked up all the time. If he were drunk, he might let his guard down."

"But that's incredibly dangerous," Tim warned.

"How is it dangerous?" Dick challenged.

"Well, suppose he gets loaded and then jumps on his bike. Or gets so uninhibited that he hijacks the Batmobile? Did you ever think of that?" said Tim.

"Oh, come on, Timmy. We'll be with him to stop him from going anywhere. Worst-case-scenario, he pukes a few times and wakes up with a hangover."

"Yeah, that's what I meant by it being _mean_," said Tim.

"It'd be no meaner than you kicking the shit out of him like you so often do," said Dick.

"OH MY GOSH, I did that ONCE!" Tim defended. "Look, getting him drunk is not the answer and you know it."

"I didn't say it was 'the answer,' I just think it might be a worthwhile experiment," said Dick.

"How would we even get the alcohol into his system? He won't drink it willingly, knowing what it'll do to him."

"So we'll spike his drink. It'll be easy," said Dick.

"How? How will it be easy? The only things I've ever seen him drink are water, coffee and energy drinks. All of which would taste really nasty if you were to sneak liquor into them," said Tim.

"Yeah, he does have a tendency to notice little things like that," grumbled Dick. "Do you think we could like, dare him?"

"Dare him?" asked Tim.

"Well, he prides himself on being so grown-up. Maybe if we taunted him, we could get him to drink, just to prove he can," said Dick.

"Again, this is MEAN!" yelled Tim. "I can't believe we're even entertaining these ideas!"

"Hey, we haven't done anything yet," said Dick. "We're just talking. There's no crime in talking."

"Have you given any thought at all as to how much trouble we would get in? Bruce would skin us alive! He'd never trust us again!"

"He wouldn't have to know! We'd take Damian somewhere safe, somewhere there are no weapons or vehicles, and we'd just talk to him and see what we could get him to say," Dick said.

"And what do you think Damian would do to us afterwards, huh? You think he'd wake up with a hangover and just laugh it off?" asked Tim.

"If he gets _that_ wasted, he won't remember anything," Dick explained. "Trust me, I've nursed hangovers of Roy's, and he always draws a complete blank on the previous night. Can't even remember whom he was with."

"Dick, I believe that if Damian were drunk, he would definitely say some things we could use against him, or at least use to understand him better. And if not, it would still be pretty funny," said Tim.

"Good! So let's go buy some-"

"BUT…" Tim continued. "This also sounds like a textbook example of something STUPID that people would do, and then regret it for the rest of their lives."

"Well, we just need to take precautions," said Dick. _"OK…"_ he sighed. "Do you have anything to write on? Like a notepad or something?"

"Yeah, hang on," muttered Tim, getting up and walking over to the table that had his landline phone on it. He picked up a yellow pad of paper and a pen, and brought it back to the coffee table.

"Thanks," said Dick, taking the items from Tim's hand. "Alright, first things first; where should this event take place?"

"You said somewhere safe, with no weapons or vehicles," said Tim.

"Right. Right. Also, we need to be as far away from Bruce and Alfred as possible," said Dick, writing these things down.

"We would definitely have to be out-of-costume," said Tim.

"Oh, absolutely," Dick agreed. "Could we do it here? I mean, Damian can't access your secret bunker unless you told him where the switch is, right?"

"We are not going to get him drunk HERE! This was your stupid idea, we're going to do it somewhere YOU live," said Tim.

"Well, we can't do it at my apartment, I have weapons and shit all over the place," said Dick.

"Not my problem," said Tim. "Could we do it at the manor? I mean, it's big, and we could keep Damian locked in an entire wing, and he wouldn't be able to get to the Cave."

"But Bruce and Alfred would still be there," said Dick.

"Yeah, good point," muttered Tim. "Man, this is harder than I thought."

"Yeah, there's really no place we could do this that Damian couldn't, theoretically, escape from. He _is_ an escape artist, after all," said Dick. "Why don't we just, like, fly out to some deserted field off the highway, and just get him loaded there?"

"Dick, for the last time: NO VEHICLES!" yelled Tim. "We cannot have Damian anywhere NEAR a plane, a car, a motorcycle or ANY KIND OF MACHINERY!"

"Alright, alright! We'll keep thinking!" said Dick.

"You know what? Fuck it. Let's just do it here. We'll tell Damian that we just want to hang out, watch a movie or something and have dinner, and we'll put some alcohol in his drink. He likes tea, right? We could make him a Long Island Iced Tea."

"He'll never fall for that," said Dick. "Why the hell would we 'want to hang out' with Damian?"

"I don't know. YOU think of a better alibi!"

"I'm trying!" yelled Dick. The brothers sat in silence for a few minutes; Dick tapping his pen against his temple, and Tim drumming his fingers on his thigh.

"We definitely have to keep it casual," said Tim. "If we straight-up invite Damian to hang out, he'll get suspicious. We have to make it seem like getting together with him is a spur-of-the-moment type thing."

"Yeah, you're right," said Dick. "How about we intercept him and Bruce next time they're on patrol, strike up a conversation, and just kind-of _steer _it in the direction of the three of us hanging out?"

"Uh, I guess it's worth a shot," said Tim. "Heh…shot."

"Damian doing shots…that's a laugh," said Dick.

"Ha ha ha ha ha!" laughed Tim. "You know we're going to get in big trouble."

"Ah, you worry too much," said Dick. "Good idea, by the way. OK, here's the plan…" and he began writing things down on the notepad.

"Step 1: meet up with Bruce and Damian on patrol. Step 2: casually bring up the idea of the three of us hanging out. Step 3: get Damian here, order a pizza and buy some pop…"

"And some tea for Damian, in case he doesn't want pop."

"Right. Right. Step 4: sneak some vodka into Damian's drink…and see where it goes from there."

"Yeah. And don't forget, all weapons and vehicles must be completely out-of-reach from Damian. He can't leave the house and he can't be left alone," Tim added.

"Right. If either of us have to leave the room for any reason, one of us stays with him," Dick finished.

"OK, I think we have our game plan," said Tim, putting his hands on his thighs and standing up.

"Yeah. I'll go buy some vodka, and I'll call you in a few days and we'll set up a date to just casually bump into Batman and Robin," said Dick, heading towards the door.

"I still think this is a bad idea," said Tim. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious."

"OK. I'll see you later, Timmy," said Dick.

"Goodnight, Dick."

* * *

To be continued

Please review, thanks!


	3. Chapter 03

**Surface Chapter 03**

Chikorita-Trainer1

T

Disclaimer: I don't own DC comics or anything else I might make references to.

* * *

The plan was put into motion. Tim, as Red Robin, and Dick, as Nightwing, managed to track the activity of Batman and Robin one Friday night, and swooped in to strike up conversation, just as they'd planned.

"How's it going?" Nightwing asked.

"It's pretty quiet," answered Batman. "We need more nights like this."

"I don't," said Robin. "I'm not saying I want crime to happen, but it would be more fun than just sitting on rooftops _waiting_ for something to happen."

"You are WAY too uptight, kid," said Nightwing.

"We were just out having some fun," said Red Robin. "There's so little going on, so we were thinking of just going back home, changing back into civvies and kicking back."

"I think we could all benefit from doing that," said Batman. "But unfortunately, duty calls."

"Have you been to Red's new apartment, Robin? It's pretty sweet. We were going to go back there in an hour or so," said Nightwing.

"I have not," Robin answered formally. "If you two are done bothering us, my father and I would like to get back to our patrol."

Red Robin pulled Batman to the side and whispered softly,

"_Is he as snotty with you as he is with us?"_

"_Probably snottier," _Batman grumbled. _"Everything I say he counters with his own warped sense of logic."_

"_You want us to take him off your hands? Just for one night?" _asked Red Robin.

"_No, that's OK," _said Batman. _"Thanks, though. I might take you up on that offer in the future, though."_

"_How near future?" _asked Red Robin, trying not to seem too eager. _"I mean, hypothetically, it couldn't be just any night, 'cause I have my own things to do…"_

"_I'd call first, of course," _said Batman. _"I'm going to take him home now."_

"Uh, OK, Batman. Take care!" said Red Robin.

"Robin, with me," said Batman. Robin eagerly extracted himself from the headlock Nightwing currently had him in.

"I can SO have fun!" he yelled.

"Nightwing, what's going on?"

"All I said was that he needs to loosen up and have more fun, and he just got all defensive and shit." Nightwing explained.

"I have plenty of fun! My idea of it just doesn't happen to be trivial things like…going bowling or to the movies," argued Robin. At this, Red Robin pulled his older brother aside.

"_You're making it too obvious," _he hissed.

"_I'm just trying to put the idea in his head. That way, he'll think about it, and then he'll think that he thought of it on his own,"_ Dick explained.

"_That's not going to work!" _Red Robin whispered back.

"_How do you know?" _Nightwing shot back.

"What are you two fighting about?" asked Batman. He could hear every word they were saying, as his cowl was equipped with hyper-sensitive sound receptors, but he didn't know what they were talking about.

"Uh, nothing…" said Nightwing. _Crap. We're busted! We should have come up with a cover story in case he ever asked!_

"We were just discussing the best possible way to convince Robin to hang out with us once in a while," Red Robin explained. "We figured asking him directly would be a complete disaster, so we thought we might subliminally put the idea in his head."

Batman raised an eyebrow at this (though it was hard to tell under the cowl).

"We just thought that if we all hung out some time, we could get to know each other better. And consequently, we might be able to tolerate each other more, and work together more efficiently," Red Robin continued.

"I don't want to hang out with either of you!" Robin sneered. "There are plenty of things I'd rather do with my time!"

"Actually, Robin," said Batman. "I think spending some quality time with your brothers is a good idea," he said.

"WHAT?" cried Robin.

"We _are_ a family," said Batman. "And as Robin, you are expected to maintain a double-identity. And so far, you don't have much of a civilian identity. You're Robin, but as Damian Wayne, there's not much there."

"So? What do I need with a civilian identity anyway?"

"If we're at meetings or fundraisers regarding Batman Inc., and people see you there, I want them to think you're nothing more than Bruce Wayne's son. If you maintain the same persona you do as Robin, it could endanger your secret identity," said Batman.

"Yeah!" said Nightwing. Red Robin rolled his eyes at this.

"How about tomorrow night? Red and I were thinking of just ordering a pizza and watching some movies over at his place. You could come, we'll have a guys' night."

"Batman, no! Don't make me do this!" whined Robin.

"We'll talk about it at home," said Batman. "Come along."

Robin shot death-glares at his older brothers as Batman steered his son towards the ledge of the building. Firing their tethers, the dynamic duo swung on home.

"Got him," said Nightwing, offering Red Robin his hand to slap.

"Word."

The brothers then returned to Red Robin's apartment, via the bunker.

"Do you think he'll convince him?" Dick asked.

"Can't tell," said Tim. "I think we might have made it too obvious that we're up to something."

"Possibly," said Dick. "But Bruce seemed interested in unloading the brat onto us, at least for a night."

"Which is _kinda_ sad, in retrospect," said Tim, hanging up his cape and sitting down to take off his boots. "That he doesn't even want to spend time with his own son, 'cause he sucks so much."

"Ha ha ha!" Dick erupted as he threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Did you buy the stuff yet?" asked Tim.

"Yeah. It's at my house," said Dick. "We should drive over and get it."

"OK," said Tim, pulling on some jeans and a black t-shirt. "Did you get some iced tea?"

"No, I couldn't find it," said Dick. "I got this other stuff, though. Have you ever had Orangina?"

"Uh…" Tim had to search his own memory for a second. "Yes."

"Yeah, they have it at Potbelly. Anyway, I bought a six-pack. I figure we'll open them up and pour out a few inches, and pour in some vodka, and put the top back on so he never knows it was open," said Dick.

"I like…I like…" said Tim.

"And since you have to shake those anyway, like turn them upside down or whatever, the vodka will get mixed right in."

"Yeah, and the taste is so tangy I bet he won't even notice it," said Tim.

"We are evil geniuses," said Dick, high-5-ing his little brother.

"Ugh, don't remind me. The guilt is already dissolving my insides and we haven't even done anything yet."

"Hey, we've _planned_ this, Timmy," said Dick, clasping a hand on his brother's shoulder as they got in the elevator and went back up to the apartment. "We've taken precautions. We are not going to let anything happen to the brat, remember?"

"Yeah, I know," muttered Tim.

The next night, Damian actually showed up at Tim's door, in a black sweatshirt hoodie, jeans and sneakers. Nevertheless, the hood was up and he looked like he was about to punch someone.

"Ha. Daddy finally convinced you, eh?" said Dick, who answered the door.

"Shut up, Grayson!" snarled Damian. "I merely complied because he threatened to suspend my time as Robin if I didn't _"try to get along with you,"_" he added, using air-quotes.

"I'm sure," he said. "Anyway, Tim and I rented Joyride and The Ring."

"Whatever," said Damian.

"Which one should we watch first?" asked Dick, as Tim came into the living room with a bowl of popcorn.

"Like I care," said Damian.

"Alrighty then, The Ring," said Dick.

Damian practically fell asleep during the whole movie. He found it so farfetched and ridiculous that it wasn't even scary. Plus, he didn't believe in ghosts or evil spirits, so he mostly just laughed arrogantly whenever a character died.

After it was over, Dick suggested that they order a few pizzas. They ordered one large pepperoni, one large veggie-lovers' and one small plain cheese. And of course, when the pizzas were delivered, they brought out the Orangina.

"_Are they all…y'know?" _asked Dick as Damian was opening each box of pizza, and trying not to gag.

"_No. There are two that are normal. One for you and one for me. I partly peeled off the label on them, so you can tell them apart," _said Tim.

"_Gotcha."_

"Blecchh!" Damian complained, after biting into his pepperoni slice. "How the fuck can you eat this shit?"

"Um, well, one starts by inserting the pizza into one's mouth, and then biting down…" Dick began.

"Shut up!" laughed Tim.

"And what is this beverage that looks like urine?" complained the child.

"Try it. It's really good!" said Dick. "It's like orange soda, but not soda."

"Humph, we shall see," grumbled Damian, unscrewing the top and taking a sip. "Hmm. Not bad."

At this, Dick bit his bottom lip and looked over at Tim, who, had a piece of pizza in front of his face, but grinned back.

"We have more, if you want another one," said Tim.

"Maybe. It's pretty good," said Damian.

Trying not to lose sight of what the purpose of getting this ten-year-old drunk was, the brothers decided to waste no time. They began to ask Damian questions.

"So," Tim asked. "How do you like working with your dad?"

* * *

To be continued

Please review, thanks!


	4. Chapter 04

**Surface Chapter 04**

Chikorita-Trainer1

T

Disclaimer: I don't own DC comics or anything else I might make references to.

* * *

"_How do you like working with your dad?"_

Damian, who was washing down his slice of pizza with several consecutive gulps of Orangina, put the nearly-empty bottle back down on the table and said,

"It's OK. I mean, it sucks, 'cause he doesn't trust me, but I'd still rather be Robin than just sitting around at home."

"What kinds of things does he say to you that make you think he doesn't trust you?" asked Tim.

"Well," Damian clicked his tongue and gazed upward while he searched his mind for the right words. "Like, when I'm going after somebody, he keeps ordering me around, even when I'm like, right in the middle of something. It's like, how am I going to change what I'm ALREADY doing? Like, it's a little late, Father! Just let me do what I'm doing!"

"Heh, heh, heh," chuckled Tim, looking nervously over at Dick.

"And how's life at the manor? Do you guys spend a lot of time together?" asked the eldest Bat.

"Tt. NO," Damian answered. "I mean, some nights we play with the dog, but…"

"Hey, Damian?" Tim suddenly interrupted. "Did you ever notice how Orangina is spelled suspiciously like vagina?" Tim was just trying to catch Damian off-guard, trying to make him laugh, to gauge just how intoxicated the child was.

Damian kind-of leaned forward over his place at the table and squinted his eyes at the bottle before him.

A few seconds passed, and then he laughed- actually, snorted- through his nose.

"Khhkhhhhkkhhhkkhhhh!" he laughed. "HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!" And then that was followed by an enormous gasp of air, that made a kind of whistle-like sound.

"Heh heh heh heh!" Dick chuckled.

"_Tee hee hee," _Damian giggled quietly.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" said Dick.

"What?" asked Damian, finishing the last of his bottle.

"When you lived with your mom, what was the hardest test you were ever put through?"

"Pfff! I don't know!" said Damian. "I don't really remember, but sometimes we'd look at a photo album together, and there were pictures of me when I was like two, walking over hot coals or something."

"Whoa, seriously?" said Tim. "Hot coals? When you were two?" Damian just shrugged.

"Damn. Talia is the bitch to end all bitches," declared Dick.

"Gya ha ha ha!" cackled Damian, throwing his head back. "OH! One thing I DO remember," he continued. "When I was eight I had to kill a wild boar out in the snow."

"Damn," said Tim.

"Yeah. It was cold as FUCK out there," Damian said. "Can I have another…uh…dyuh…" he stumbled trying to remember the name of the beverage. "Orange…vagina-juice?"

"_Eh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!" _laughed Dick, pounding the table a few times with his fist.

"You mean _Orangina?" _Tim corrected, trying not to laugh himself.

"Yes. Yes, that is what I meant," said Damian.

"Sure, I'll get you another one," said Dick, getting up to get Damian another spiked bottle.

"Thanks," he said.

"What else did you have to do when you were training with the League?" Dick asked, sitting back down at the table and grabbing another slice of pizza.

"LOTSA target practice!" said Damian, taking a gulp of Orangina. "Every day. Every freakin' morning with my mom."

" 'K…" muttered Tim. "Anything else worth mentioning?"

Damian, who had the bottle in his mouth, just shrugged.

"What should we do now?" asked Dick. "You want to watch another movie, or…?"

"I want to know what YOU guys were like when you were my age!" Damian demanded. "HIC! Aw, shit. Now I have the hiccups."

"Yeah…that happens when you chug carbonated beverages…" said Tim, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

"HIC!" went Damian again.

"Anyway, to answer your question…well, it wasn't really a question, it was more of a statement…" said Dick.

"Get ON with it! HIC!"

"Well, when I was ten, I was already Robin," Dick began.

"No, I mean in REAL LIFE!" said Damian. "HIC! I mean like, what did you guys do when you weren't Rob-HIC-in?"

"Well, I mostly just stayed in and studied a lot," said Dick. "And I wasn't legally Bruce's son, I was his ward. So, I mean, like, it wasn't like how you and him are."

"Yeah, just a second," said Tim, getting up from the table. He tugged on Dick's shoulder and Dick followed him down the hall. _"OK, he's smashed out of his face. Can we just call off this stupid experiment already?"_ he whispered.

"_No! Are you kidding me? We're on a roll! He's being hilarious!"_ said Dick.

"_He's chugging those things down like a basketball player with Gatorade! He's going to get alcohol poisoning or something!"_ hissed Tim.

"_He is not! I barely put more than a tablespoon of vodka in each bottle,"_ Dick assured him.

"_That's a lot for a ten-year-old! And he's only had one piece of pizza, which means he hasn't eaten a lot of food to balance it out."_

"_Arrgh! Alright, didn't we agree that we wouldn't BOTH leave the room at the same time?" _Dick argued, simply to end the fight.

"Oh, crap!" said Tim, rushing back into the room. Both brothers were relieved to find that Damian hadn't left his place at the table, he was just drunkenly gazing around the room, marveling at the high ceilings and stuff.

"What were you guys talking about?" he asked, without even looking at them.

"Uh…" Tim stalled.

"Yeah, I don't even care," said Damian, waving his hand. "HIC!"

"Whatever," said Dick, as he and Tim sat back down at the table. "As I was saying, I was a good student, a good athlete. Good at lots of stuff."

"Yeah, and when I was ten, I was like, obsessively following Dick's career as Robin," said Tim. "I didn't become Robin until I was like fourteen, though."

"HIC!"

"You OK? You want some water or something?" asked Tim.

"Nah, I'm fine. HIC!" said Damian. Then he burped. It was a tiny, modest burp, but still funny enough to send him into another fit of hysterical laughter. "HA HA HA HA HA HA! 'scuse me!"

"_Eh heh…" _Tim laughed awkwardly. This experiment was quickly losing its humor.

"You know what I don't get?" asked Damian.

"What?" said Dick.

"HIC! How you guys are like, best friends, even though you're like…HIC! A million years apart."

"Um, well, we just get along because we have so much in common," said Dick. "Tim really impressed me when he wanted to become Robin. We bonded quickly, 'cause he was like a young me."

"I like how you guys always HIC! Have each other's backs," said Damian. In his drunken state, he was freely verbalizing his deepest emotions.

"Yeah?" Tim asked softly.

"Uh-huh. HIC! You guys are really close. I wish I was a part of that. HIC!"

"You are," said Dick. "You're our little brother, too."

"Yeah, but I don't get that same HIC! Like, brotherly connection that you two have. HIC!"

"Well…" Dick said slowly. "Uh…th-that's why we're hanging out right now. So we can get to know each other better, and strengthen that bond."

"Thanks," Damian said sincerely with a smile. "You know, I really thought you guys hated me. HIC! I know I don't say it much, but I love you both."

"We love you, too, kiddo," said Dick, reaching over to ruffle Damian's hair.

"But you seemed to angry when you got here," said Tim. "Like you really didn't want to spend time with us."

"Yeah, that's 'cause…y'know…" Damian grumbled. He held his breath for a second, trying to stop his hiccups. "…'cause I don't want you to know how I really feel."

"Why not?" asked Dick.

"I don't know. 'cause it's…dorky. It's lame. I'm not supposed to show my feelings," said Damian. "But it's true, though."

"What is?" asked Dick.

"I love you both," said Damian.

"So do we," said Dick.

"Yep. Definitely," said Tim, looking straight ahead, not meeting either of his brothers' gazes. "Definitely…love you."

The guilt was practically fermenting inside Tim as he fought back tears trying to maintain a straight face.

"Why don't we go sit in the living room?" Dick suggested, desperate to change the subject.

"OK. HIC!" said Damian. But as soon as the ten-year-old got up, he fell. "Ow!"

"Oh, jeez! Are you OK?" asked a panicked Tim.

"Uh…" Damian was confused as to why he was suddenly on the floor. "I don't know."

"_Here, let me help you…" _Tim muttered, grabbing Damian's wrists and hauling him up.

"WHOA! I can't walk!" cried Damian, stumbling sideways into Tim's arms. "What gives?"

"Need some help?" asked Dick.

"Nah, I got him I got him. I got him," Tim repeated as he helped Damian into the living room and onto the sofa.

"Oof!" said Damian as he slumped sideways on the couch onto the armrest. "What was IN that Ora-jina- vagina…ORANGINA!" he slurred through the attempt to utter the word.

"Vodka."

"GIH!" Dick grunted at his younger brother's admission.

"Vodka? Are you shittin' me?" asked Damian. "You motherfuckers got me DRUNK?"

"I am so sorry, Damian," said Tim, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "I am so, so sorry. It was a stupid and MEAN thing to do…"

"_You and your damn goody-two-shoes attitude," _muttered Dick. "Yes, alright? We got you drunk!"

"That would explain a lot," said Damian. "Like how I feel _really_ nauseous right now."

"Bathroom's over there," said Tim, pointing with one hand, head in the other. Damian, now freed of his hiccups and focused enough on a location to get himself there without stumbling, quickly rushed to the bathroom. They could hear the poor child's coughing and retching from behind the closed door, and Tim held his head in his hands, feeling horrible.

"Bound to happen," Dick said with a shrug.

"_We just poisoned our little brother,"_ muttered Tim. _"Are you happy now?"_

"I'm satisfied," said Dick. "We got him to loosen up, which was our plan. We found out some things about him that we would never have known otherwise."

"At what cost?"

"Tim, come on. He's probably like ten seconds away from passing out, anyway," said Dick. "He'll fall asleep, wake up with absolutely no memory of this, and the only people who will ever know about this will be you and me."

And then the phone rang.

"Hello?" said Tim.

"_Hello, Tim," _came Bruce's voice. _"I'm just checking in. How's everything going?"_

* * *

To be continued

Please review, thanks!


	5. Chapter 05

**Surface Chapter 05**

Chikorita-Trainer1

T

Disclaimer: I don't own DC comics or anything else I might make references to.

* * *

"Uh, hey _Bruce_," Tim looked at Dick with a terrified look on his face as he said this. "Everything's fine. Damian's-"

"_Give me that!"_ hissed Dick, grabbing the phone from Tim and covering the bottom of it. _"You squeal, you die!"_ Tim just scoffed. "Hi, Bruce."

"_How's Damian?"_ asked Bruce.

"Uh, he's in the bathroom right now," said Dick. "Anyway, we're actually having fun. Learning a lot about each other." Dick winked at Tim, who just looked back at him, annoyed.

"_What did you guys do?"_ asked Bruce.

"Oh, you know, watched a movie, had some pizza, talked about stuff," said Dick. He wasn't lying, so he was able to make his answers sound legit.

"_OK. I thought I might swing by after patrol and pick Damian up."_

"No, no , no!" cried Tim, grabbing the phone away from Dick, and really hoping that Bruce hadn't heard him just now. "Uh, I mean, Damian's kind-of tired. We partied more than the little guy is used to, you know?"

"_You 'partied'? With Damian?"_

"Yeah, heh, the kid's really loosening up. Point being, why don't the three of us have a little sleepover here tonight, and we'll bring him home in the morning?" said Tim, sweating heavily.

"_Well, it _is _already after one,"_ said Bruce. _"Alright. Tell him I said goodnight."_

"Will do, Bruce. We'll see you tomorrow," said Tim, holding back a sigh of relief.

"_OK. Goodnight, Tim."_

"Bye." said Tim. He hung up the phone. "Whew!"

"That was close!" said Dick.

"You think?" snarled Tim.

"Was that my father?" came a gravelly, exhausted voice. The two older Bat brothers looked towards the bathroom, to see Damian groggily walking out.

"Yeah, he was just checking to see what's going on," said Dick. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I think I got it all out," said Damian. "I'm kinda tired, though."

"Why don't you sit down with us?" asked a guilty Tim. Damian complied, settling down on the sofa in between his brothers, and laying his head down on Dick's lap.

"_Just close your eyes for a little while, buddy," _whispered Dick. Damian did close his eyes, and within a minute, the child had passed out. "See? I told you he'd be fine. Sleeping like a baby."

"Yeah, a drunk baby," said Tim. "Can you imagine what-"

"Shh!" hissed Dick. "Just…just let it go."

"I've got a pull-out sofa in a guest room upstairs," said Tim. "Let's put him down there."

"Good idea," said Dick, gently lifting the ten-year-old into his arms. He followed Tim upstairs and into the guest room. Tim unfolded the sofa, got a few extra blankets and pillows, and made up the bed for Damian.

Dick laid Damian down, and they stood back and looked at him.

The child looked so innocent when he slept.; his mouth not curled into a malicious smirk. His eyebrows not arched with mischievous thoughts. His nostrils not flared in anger. He just looked like a peaceful, sleeping child.

"Should probably get him undressed," muttered Dick.

"Yeah," agreed Tim. Slowly, the brothers untied Damian's shoes and took them off, followed by his jeans and sweatshirt, leaving the child in nothing but his boxers and white t-shirt.

Tim peeled back the covers on the bed, Dick placed Damian in the middle, and Tim wrapped the blankets over him again.

_"Sleep tight, little brother,"_ said Dick, giving Damian a soft kiss on the forehead.

"Follow me," ordered Tim, going back downstairs.

"What's up?" asked Dick.

"You clean off the table while I proof the house," he said.

"Proof the house? Proof it for what?" Dick inquired as he began to put all the pizza crusts back into one box and stick the box in the garbage.

"Hangover-proof," said Tim, tightly closing all the blinds and drawing the curtains. "Since it was your idea to take precautions, we've got to make sure that when Damian wakes up tomorrow, he's in the most comfortable and accommodating environment possible."

"OK. That makes sense," said Dick, putting the plates in the dishwasher and the empty bottles in the recycling. "I guess we'd better make sure we have hangover-friendly food, too."

"Yeah, I figured we'll make him some toast, have some aspirin ready, anything he could possibly need," said Tim, safety-pinning the curtains together, so as not to let in even a crack of sunlight.

"Are you ever going to forgive me…or yourself for this?" said Dick, clasping a hand on Tim's shoulder.

"I don't know," Tim admitted. "I'm going to go brush my teeth."

After about ten minutes of hygiene, both Dick and Tim were now ready for bed. Tim sat down on the side of his bed and hung his head.

"You OK?"

"I just can't believe we did this," he sighed.

"Hey, if you want, I'll tell Bruce it was all my idea," said Dick.

"I don't know if want you to tell him at all," said Tim. "I mean, we basically committed a crime. How hypocritical is that?"

"Probably no more hypocritical than the time you kicked Damian's ass," said Dick.

"Are you EVER going to let me forget that?" grumbled Tim.

"I'm just saying, that was technically child-abuse. Do you consider THAT committing a crime?"

"No, because it was mostly self-defense," said Tim, lying down and getting under the covers.

"Whatever," said Dick, joining Tim under the covers. "I know I'm not going to be able to convince you not to feel guilty about this."

"Damn straight," sighed Tim.

"We should probably get our story straight for when he asks why he feels like crap tomorrow," said Dick.

"We should probably just tell him the truth," said Tim.

"Aw, you are SUCH a buzz kill!" huffed Dick.

"So I've been told."

"Heh. I love you, little brother," said Dick, leaning over to kiss Tim's forehead.

"Love you, too. G'night."

" 'night bro."

Unlike his out-cold little brother, Tim had a very hard time falling asleep. Tossing and turning, he just couldn't shake his apprehensiveness and dread of facing Damian in the morning. He looked longingly at his digital clock, which read 4:38, and turned back over, facing Dick's back.

_"Mmmm…you still awake?"_ he moaned.

_"Can't sleep,"_ Tim admitted as Dick rolled over.

_"What's the matter?"_

_"Same. Keep worrying about the kid."_

_"He'll be fine, Timmy,"_ Dick assured him. _"Mmm…come here."_ Tim rolled back over so that his back was to Dick, and his brother wrapped his arm around Tim's shoulders and pulled him close, so that Tim could feel Dick's breath on the back of his neck. _"I'm sorry I got you into this,"_ he whispered.

_"You didn't force me,"_ said Tim. _"I made my own choice."_

_"Yeah, but like you said, it was my stupid idea,"_ said Dick.

_"I just hope he's not suffering,"_ said Tim. _"Poor kid puked up his whole dinner, and now he's going to wake up with a horrible headache."_

_"Which we will give him medicine for. Stop worrying, Tim. What's done is done."_

_"And the worst part is, he's loved and admired us all along. He wanted to be a part of our…thing. He really _is_ just a kid under all that attitude. He's looking for love and acceptance, and we tricked him into getting drunk."_

_"It's OK, Timmy,"_ Dick whispered sleepily. _"It's OK."_

That morning, at about 10 AM, Tim and Dick pried themselves out of bed, and went downstairs to make breakfast.

Knowing what the best foods to nurse a hangover were, they quickly got to preparing toast and waffles, and of course, they had plenty of Cheerios and other dry, bland foods on hand. Orange juice and lots of water were going to be recommended to Damian if and when he finally woke up.

Back upstairs in the guest room, the child was just now opening his eyes.

_Ow…my head…_ he thought. _What happened? Where am I?_ He sat up slowly, his head feeling like he was wearing a headband with a bowling ball attached to it. Thankfully, the room was dark. There was enough daylight seeping in to illuminate the room for him to navigate his way around, but it wasn't excruciatingly bright.

_Mmm. Toast…_ he thought as he emerged and began to descend the stairs.

"Hello?" he asked weakly.

"Good morning," Tim said softly, knowing that loud noises would only hurt the boy further.

"How are you feeling?" asked Dick.

_"…mmngh…"_ Damian moaned. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled out his nose. He said nothing more.

Tim only felt worse as he observed his little brother's appearance; Damian's hair, which was usually swept straight back in pronounced little spikes, was now all matted and tangled, and sticking up in all different directions. His eyes, normally sharp and calculated, were now bloodshot and bleary. His skin, normally a healthy tone, now looked pale and dry, and he had deep, noticeable bags under his puffy eyes.

"Headache?" asked Dick. Damian tried to nod, but so much movement only increased his pain, so he just grunted in reply. "Here, have some toast. It'll help you feel better."

Damian slowly climbed onto a barstool at the kitchen counter, and took a bite of toast.

"Want some water, too?" asked Tim.

_"Mm,"_ Damian grunted affirmatively.

"After you get some food in you, you should take an aspirin, OK?" said Tim.

_"OK,"_ said Damian.

The child finished about three pieces of toast and drank a tall glass of water, and then took an aspirin.

"You want to go lie down?" asked Dick, rubbing Damian's back.

_"I don't know,"_ sighed Damian, messaging his temples with his fingers. _"I don't know what happened…"_

"Well, we'll explain that when you're feeling better," said Dick. "If you don't want to lie down, you should at least keep drinking water."

_"Why's that?"_ Damian breathed.

"Because it'll help flush the toxins of alcohol out of your system," Tim answered bluntly.

_"What alcohol?"_ asked Damian, getting off the stool to go sit on the couch.

"You kinda…sorta…got wasted last night," said Dick.

_"…what?"_

"We got you drunk," said Tim, handing Damian another glass of water. "And we're very, very sorry."

_"Oh…I don't remember that,"_ sighed Damian. _"I don't remember anything."_

"Yeah, that's getting hammered for ya," chuckled Dick. Tim, with a very guilty look on his face, sat down beside Damian and put his hand on his kid brother's knee.

"We did it because we were frustrated that you never tell us what you're really feeling," he said. "You always push us away when we try to get close to you. But when people get drunk, their real personality comes to the surface. We wanted to see if we could get you really uninhibited, and then see how you really felt about things."

_"What kinds of things did I say?"_ asked Damian, starting to feel a smidgen better.

"Well, you said you wished that you could be a part of the whole…brotherly…thing…that Tim and I have going on," said Dick.

_"That doesn't sound like me,"_ mumbled Damian. _"Did I really say that?"_

"Yeah," said Tim. "And that made us really happy. 'cause we want you to be a part of it, too."

"You also said that you don't want us to know how you really feel, because you're a little embarrassed that you feel that way," said Dick.

_"Mm,"_ Damian nodded.

"Any of this sound familiar?" asked Tim. Damian slowly turned his head from left to right, since he was still in too much pain to straight-up shake his head no.

"Well, anyway," said Dick. "We feel pretty shitty about what we did."

"Totally," said Tim. "Hey, are you OK?" Damian suddenly had tears streaming down his cheeks and his face had turned bright pink. He didn't sob or really make any crying sounds, but rather just sniffed and inhaled sharply, in a sort-of hissing sound.

"It's OK, little brother, it's OK," said Dick, sitting down on the other side of the couch, and rubbing Damian's back a little.

"If you want, you can take a bath or a shower or something," suggested Tim. "Might help you feel better." Damian got up and walked to the bathroom, taking his glass of water with him.

"Oh, I hope he's not too embarrassed," sighed Dick.

"Yeah. Or too hurt," agreed Tim.

"What are we going to tell Bruce?"

"I don't know," said Tim. "Probably the truth."

* * *

To be continued  
Please review, thanks!


	6. Chapter 06

**Surface Chapter 06**

Chikorita-Trainer1

T

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or anything else I might make references to.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading, everybody! Your feedback and compliments mean a lot to me! Please enjoy this final chapter!

* * *

_How could I have fallen for that?_ thought Damian as he sat in the tub while it filled up with warm water. _Why did I have to be so stupid? And why can't I remember anything? I've been beaten and left for dead numerous times, had several concussions and I STILL remember those! Why can't I remember a thing from last night?_

The child sat in the slowly-filling tub, hanging his head, desperately trying to message his headache away by rubbing his fingers on his temples. He was still in too much pain to sob, but the tears continued to fall from his eyes.

Back in the living room, Dick and Tim were moping about, trying to think of a way to tell Bruce that they'd gotten his son drunk.

"How should we break it to him?" asked Tim.

"I guess the best way would be to just say, "Bruce, just so you know, Damian got drunk last night." It's short, to-the-point and allows for fast mental-processing."

Tim laughed- just a huff of air through his nose- and smirked. "And I know it won't matter, but I think we should mention that it was your idea."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll tell him," said Dick. "Do you think we should ask Damian if he wants to be the one to tell his dad?"

"I suppose taking his opinion into account wouldn't be a _bad_ thing," Tim admitted. _"Oh, I hope he's OK."_

"Me too," said Dick. They couldn't hear anything over the sound of the tub filling up, so they didn't know if Damian was still crying.

"Want to go check on him in a little bit?" asked Tim.

"Mm-hmm," said Dick.

Soon enough, the house grew quiet, as Damian turned off the bathtub faucet and just lay back in the tub. His headache had gone away by now, and he was just wallowing in the soothing water when he heard a knock on the door.

"Damian?" came Tim's voice. "You OK?"

"Can we come in?" asked Dick.

"Yeah," Damian said softly. The two older brothers walked in and smiled apologetically to the child.

"How do you feel?" asked Dick.

"Better. My headache went away," said Damian.

"Good," said Tim. "I guess we should tell you how it happened, huh?" Damian nodded. "Well, the other night, Dick and I were talking about how we wished you were just a little more open with your feelings, and then he suggested that we get you drunk."

"But how did you do it? I mean, I don't remember anything from last night, but what did I drink?" asked Damian.

"Well, I'd gotten these bottles of Orangina, and I put some vodka into them," said Dick. "Not very much, but I guess you're a lightweight."

"Did I act like an idiot?" Damian asked. Tim and Dick smiled.

"Not at all," said Tim. "You just complained about some stuff, and you said that…well…"

"What?"

"You told us that you loved us," said Tim. Damian's eyes widened, almost as if in fear.

"I said that?" he asked, his voice full of dread.

"Yeah. And that's what made us feel really guilty about the whole thing," said Tim. "Because we started plotting it because we were so fed up with you, since you're usually such a grouch-"

"_Nnnnghhh…" _Damian grunted as he sat up in the tub and covered his eyes with his hands.

"Damian, what's wrong?" asked Dick. Damian just continued to cry into his palms. "Damian?"

"Damian, why are you crying? It's nothing to be embarrassed about," said Tim.

"Please don't tell my father!" he sobbed.

"What?" said Dick.

"Please don't tell my father! He'll never forgive me! He'll fire me from being Robin! Please, promise me you won't tell him I got drunk!" begged the child.

"But it was _our_ fault," said Tim. "Damian, you're not going to get in trouble. _We_ are."

"Yeah, what's the matter? Why are you so down on yourself?" asked Dick.

"Because I was stupid!" cried Damian. "I should have noticed the alcohol in the Orangina. I should have suspected something strange was going on, but I didn't! I let my guard down! I _let_ this happen to me."

"Damian…" said Dick. "…is that what you think?"

Damian sniffed and nodded.

"Is that something Talia told you? That if anything bad ever happens to you, it's _your_ fault?" asked Tim.

Another nod.

Dick and Tim looked at each other, both with creased foreheads and pity for their little brother in their eyes.

"Your mom's wrong, Damian," said Dick. "You shouldn't blame yourself when other people mess with you."

"That's right. Especially if the people are sitting right in front of you, admitting that they did something wrong," Tim added.

"I'm not supposed to make mistakes," said Damian. "I'm supposed to always be in control."

"Damian, you shouldn't put so much pressure on yourself," said Tim, resting his palm on Damian's neck behind his ear. "Not even Batman can be in control 100% of the time."

"Yeah. This is why Bruce wanted you to spend some time with us. So you could loosen up and enjoy life for once. That's not a crime," said Dick.

"So…he won't be mad at me if he finds out?" asked Damian.

"No way! For the hundredth time, he's going to be mad at US!" said Tim.

"But if you don't want him to know, we won't tell him either, OK?" said Dick. "Now come on, get out before you get all pruned."

Damian giggled and pulled up the tub-stopper to let the water drain out.

"Then will you two at least allow me the privacy to put my clothes back on?" he said, trying as hard as he could to sound snotty, though it was hard with a cute grin on his face.

"Certainly," said Dick as he and Tim stood up and left the room.

Within about five minutes, Damian emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, but with his hair still a little damp.

"Ready to go home?" asked Dick.

"Uh-huh," he answered. And so the three brothers got into Tim's car, and drove out to Wayne Manor. While Tim was driving, Dick called Alfred to let him know that they would be home soon.

"_Master Dick?" _Alfred answered.

"Hey, Alfred," said Dick. "We're on our way home with Damian. Is Bruce there?"

"_I'm afraid Master Bruce is catching up on his sleep," _Alfred informed Dick.

"Ha. Good. The old man could really use more of it," laughed Dick. "Well, we should be home in about 20 minutes or so."

"_Very good, sir."_

"Alright, see you soon, Alfie."

Upon arriving at Wayne Manor, Dick let himself and his brothers in, and called for Alfred.

"Alfred? We're back!" But Alfred was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's my father?" asked Damian.

"Alfred said he was sleeping," said Dick. "Listen, are you going to be alright? Do you want us to stay here for a while?"

"No, that won't be necessary, Grayson," said Damian, his snottiness back intact. "I can find my way to my father's sleeping quarters on my own, thank you."

Tim and Dick just rolled their eyes, happy that Damian was back to normal. For once, they were relieved that he was being himself.

"OK, kiddo, we'll see you later," said Dick, kneeling down to hug him.

"Must we degrade ourselves like this, Grayson?" groaned Damian, resisting the hug as best he could.

"Yes, we must," said Dick, kissing the ten-year-old on the forehead. "Tim, you want to get in on this?"

"No thanks," chuckled Tim. "Come on, let's go."

"Alright, alright," said Dick.

"Bye, Damian," said Tim. Dick went out the front door and back to the car, while Tim lagged behind in the doorway. Turning back to his little brother, he added softly, "I love you."

Damian whipped his head around, but by the time he was facing the door again, it was already shut.

"_I know," _he whispered. _"I know that now."_

Damian slowly ascended the staircase and padded down the hall to his father's room. He opened the door slowly, and found Bruce sleeping soundly under the covers of his great, king-sized canopy bed.

Taking a deep breath, the child slowly approached the grand bed, and climbed up onto the mattress beside his father. Bruce was sleeping on his right side, with his right arm under the pillow, and his left arm limp beside him.

Damian slowly but gracefully lifted up his father's left arm, rolled underneath it, and wrapped it around his shoulders like a scarf. Breathing a deep sigh of contentment, the child closed his eyes and melted into the warmth of Bruce's chest.

"_Mmm, did you have fun with your brothers?" _Bruce whispered sleepily.

"Yes, Father," said Damian. "But right now I just want to be with you."

Bruce only smiled and gathered his son closer.

"_Fine by me," _he said softly. Damian smiled to himself as he felt his father kiss the back of his head.

* * *

THE END

Please review, thanks!


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